“Ah, yes. It is--it is _superbe_. Such beautiful _toilettes_!
And your women--they are so many--so----”
West threw back his head. “Yes, we certainly have a great many,” he
said, with a laugh.
The bewildered look returned to the Frenchman’s face. “So many--so
beautiful, I mean, so charming. And so many kinds! So different! Your
Washington--it is a marvel.”
Helen extended her hand.
“You are very good to say so. But I’m sorry you’re leaving.”
“_Au revoir_, madame.” He glanced at West and bowed once more.
“Monsieur!”
West looked relieved. “Perhaps now we can have a moment together,” he
said to Helen. “I have something to say to you. Will you come into the
library?”
Helen hesitated. “But only for a moment,” she said. When she had
entered the room and taken a seat she asked, in a matter-of-fact tone:
“What is it?”
“A few moments ago you told me that you weren’t able to make me out,”
West said, slowly.
Helen smiled good-humoredly. “Not quite that, I think. I hadn’t tried
_very_ hard.”
“You said you didn’t understand what kind of man I really was.”
Helen moved uneasily. “I really think I ought to go back. You must tell
me these things some other time.”
“Wait a minute. I may not have another chance to see you alone
to-night. There is something I must say to you now.”
Helen drew a long breath and turned slightly paler.
“I must tell you what it means to me to be near you.”
Helen kept her eyes turned from him. “I don’t understand you,” she
said, quietly.
West let his hand rest on her arm. “You don’t understand?”
Helen turned and faced him. “No,” she replied, coldly.
“Do you mean that you haven’t understood all along how I felt toward
you?” For a moment they faced each other in silence.
“Please take your hand off my arm,” said Helen.
“Why don’t you answer?” West insisted.
Helen drew her arm away.
“Because, as I have told you before, there are some things that are
better not said.”
“Then you’ve known?”
“Yes, I’ve known.” Helen did not flinch. “I’ve suspected.”
“Why have you allowed me to come here, then?”
“Because,” Helen replied, slowly, as if measuring her words, “I thought
you would never dare to speak to me as you’ve just done. And if you go
on I shall have to call my husband. Before that becomes necessary I
must ask you to leave here.”
West assumed an attitude of contemptuous indifference. “Thank you, but
I prefer to stay.”
“You will not go?”
West folded his arms. “No.”
Helen turned toward the electric bell.
“Don’t touch that bell,” said West, authoritatively.
She faced him as if fascinated. He could hear her breathe. “Now, you
won’t call the servants, and you won’t tell your husband anything about
this conversation. In the first place, your servants are really my
servants.”
Helen shrank back. “Oh!” she said.
“They are paid with my money,” West went on, with a grim smile. “So I
think I may call them mine.”
“How contemptible of you!”
West lifted his shoulders. “Well, perhaps I am contemptible. It all
depends on the point of view, I suppose. Now, you don’t consider your
husband contemptible, and yet he’s worse than I am. I don’t pretend to
be any better than I am.”
“I’ll let you say these things to his face,” Helen replied, starting to
leave the room.
West stood between her and the door. “If you make a scene here, Mrs.
Briggs, you’ll simply disgrace yourself and you’ll ruin your husband.
Can’t you see what you’re doing? Your husband has been in my pay ever
since he came to Washington. But for me, do you suppose you could live
in all this luxury? Why, this very ball to-night has cost more than
half his salary. All those stories that they tell about him are true,
do you understand?--only they’re not half as bad as the stories I could
tell. If the whole truth were known he’d be held up before all the
country as a thief and a hypocrite. But for me he’d be a petty country
lawyer in the backwoods that you came from. I gave him his chance;
I’ve made him what he is. I’ve favored him more than anyone else in
his position since he came here, for your sake, because I loved you.
He knew that, and he’s been playing on the knowledge.” He released her
hands. “I hope you’re satisfied now.”
Helen sank weakly into a chair.
“Shall I ring for your husband, Mrs. Briggs?” West asked, with
satirical politeness.
Douglas Briggs, who had just learned from Fanny that his wife was in
the library, happened to be outside, in the hall. He overheard West’s
last remark.
“Ring for me!” he repeated, as he entered the room. “What’s the matter?”
“Mrs. Briggs is feeling a little faint, I think,” said West, with
perfect composure. “So I suggested that we send for you.”
“Are you ill, Helen?” Briggs asked, anxiously.
“No. It’s--it’s nothing. If you will take me out on the balcony I shall
feel better.” Helen passed her hand over her forehead. “It’s so close
here.”
Briggs passed his arm around his wife’s waist and walked slowly toward
the door. As he left the room he turned. “Make yourself at home, West,”
he said.
When they reached the balcony Helen let her hand rest on the rail and
drew a long breath. “It was so dreadfully hot in there!” she said, with
a twinge of conscience at the covert deceit. But she felt she must keep
the cause of her agitation from her husband; at any rate, until she
had time to think and to decide what to do. If she were to speak now
of the insult she had received, she felt sure that nothing would keep
Douglas from attacking West and driving him from the house. She must do
everything she could to prevent a scandal.
[Illustration: “‘_I don’t pretend to be any better than I
am._’”]
“We’ll have to send you back to Waverly, dear, and get some more color
into those cheeks of yours.” Briggs took his wife’s hand. “Why, you’re
trembling!” he said.
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear, nothing. I shall feel perfectly well in a
minute.” She let him draw her close to him, and they stood together in
silence. “We must go back, Douglas. Some of the people must be looking
for us. I’m all right now.”
“If you feel faint again let me know, or go out of that hot
drawing-room,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on you, anyway.”